My First Love was an Endearing PHSYCHOPATH
by crookedview
Summary: I go to a singles bar and fall in love with Boo Radley.
1. A Handsome Man and Pickles

My First Love Was an Endearing Psychopath  
  
I met him at a singles bar in my hometown, Epidermis. He was wearing dirty old clothes that seemed to shimmer as he glided across the room. His hair was dead and feathery, and his face was hollow, as if he hadn't eaten all his life. His complexion was pasty and unattractive... but he didn't have acne! He looked hungry for love, or maybe he just wanted a margarita.  
Whatever the case, I suddenly knew what love at first sight was. Love at first sight. How do I describe it? It isn't going to Burger King and getting a Mighty Big Kid's Meal Double Cheeseburger smeared in ketchup, mustard and cheddar cheese. It isn't having a chest cold, but still being forced to clean your fish tank. No, it's... much more... powerful.  
I shivered, but whether it was because I was in love for the first time, or that I was wearing a bikini in the middle of January, I could not tell.  
Some would wonder why I hadn't jumped to my feet and run to my new love the moment I saw him. Some would jump into his arms, and smother his dead pale face in kisses. But, me... I'm different.  
I can't just waltz up to some guy and say, "Hey, wanna dance the macarena with me?" I can't eat a chili dog with some guy I had a conversation at the post office. I can't just go bowling with my friend's friend's friend!!! I can't... because... because of my strange fetish with pickles.  
You see, whenever I get into a relationship, pickles always break us apart. Like Marty. When we were nearing our three hour anniversary as a couple, I just HAD to open a jar of dill pickles that I'd bought at the grocery store a few years ago. I'd found them in a cabinet that morning and had since been dying to consume them. But when I opened the jar, apparently the fumes were too bad for poor Marty, and he tossed his cookies all over my darling pickles. We got in a very heated argument over my wasted pickles, and it was over.  
Or how about Julian? I invited him over for a movie night, and I rented a few of my personal favorites, The Revenge of the Pickles, Harry Pickle and the Jar of Gershwins, and my most favorite of all favorites, Lord of the Pickles: The Return of the Pickle. So, when Julian came to my house, he freaked out about my "obsession". So, I like pickles. What's wrong with that? No need to inform you that I broke up with that loser.  
But the truth is, my boyfriends just don't understand how much I need pickles to be in my life. I just haven't met that special someone who respects pickles as much as I do.  
But now, a glimmer of hope was rekindled in me. Could it be, that this weird catatonic-looking guy was THE ONE?  
My hands were shaking, and my heart was racing. I was torn between my two options: to go up and talk to him, or to forever wonder if he could have been my husband. I wiped my sweaty palms on my ever-present pickle jar, took a deep breath, stood up... and passed out. 


	2. I Come Face to Face With my Love

You would think if someone passed out cold on a hard wood floor, probably full of nails that could puncture your skin and make you bleed to death, not to mention that you very probably have a concussion, perhaps even permanent brain damage and a dented head that SOMEONE would notice and help a poor battered soul up.  
But when I woke up, everyone else was either dancing, eating, drinking or...well, it doesn't matter. The point is, I fainted and nobody noticed. I sat up and looked around. Where was I again? I stood up a little shakily and noticed a smashed jar of pickles on the ground. Who would be so careless as to drop a jar of pickles and not clean it all up? And who would eat those things anyway? Ga-ross!!! "Wait a second!" I said loudly. I was suddenly very confused. I just realized... "Who am I?" I shrieked.  
The entire bar turned and looked at me.  
The bartender shook his head sadly. "It's just too bad that people can't have alcohol in moderation." He came around the bar and approached me. "Would you like me to drive you home, ma'am?"  
I started getting teary. "But I don't know where I live. I just remember sitting up and seeing a jar of pickles. I don't remember my whole life before that! My whole life is pickles!" I wailed.  
The bartender patted my arm. "Once you sober up a little, you'll be fine." He told me, but I was really starting to freak him out.  
"Pickles, pickles PICKLES!" I screamed. "My life amounts up to one thing! Pickles! Big, green juicy cucumbers that have been soaked in vinegar!"  
Suddenly I was on the floor again. Someone had thrown me down. When I opened my eyes, I saw a man. He was wearing dirty old clothes that seemed to shimmer as he held a glinting pair of scissors above my head. His hair was dead and feathery, and his face was hollow, as if he hadn't eaten all his life. His complexion was pasty and unattractive... but he didn't have acne! He looked hungry for love, or maybe he just wanted a margarita.  
Whatever the case, I suddenly knew what love at first sight was. Love at first sight. How do I describe it? It isn't going to Burger King and getting a Mighty Big Kid's Meal Double Cheeseburger smeared in ketchup, mustard and cheddar cheese. It isn't having a chest cold and... have I said this already?  
The man looked a little familiar. "Have I met you somewhere?" I asked him, for a moment forgetting that he looked kind of scary with those scissors. He was foaming a little. He reminded me of Fordo, my favorite character in my favorite movie, Lord of the Pickles: Return of the Pickle. WAIT A SECOND! All of a sudden, I remembered everything: the stuffed pickle I had instead of a teddy bear when I was two, the rocking pickle I got for my fifth birthday, my prize-winning essay on pickle farming I wrote in seventh grade, that all-you-can-eat illegal pickle party I had when I was seventeen... all of it. "Hey! I remember my life!" I suddenly yelled, and forgetting the ominous scissors above me, sat up. Ow. 


	3. Sydney and I Break into Burker King

Disclaimer: I don't own Boo Radley but I wish I did.  
  
After I was rushed to the emergency room for numerous stitches on my forehead, I went to Burger King to celebrate with my best friend Sydney Carton. By now, it was about 3 AM but Sydney's always skulking around Burger King drunk.  
I don't really know which to celebrate, that I found my one true love, or that I had the courage to go up to him (It wasn't my fault that a few things got in the way) or that I remembered my life after about a thirty second amnesia, or that I spoke to my one true love, even if they weren't the right words, or that I was going to get a pretty impressive Harry Pickle look-alike scar on my forehead.  
Anyway, when I got to BK, there was good old Sydney sitting in a dumpster. He's kind of gone insane since his one true love, Lucie Manette married this loser guy... anyway. Such a soap opera.  
"Hey Sydney!"  
"What!" Sydney screamed, then fell over onto his face. Drunk again. I shook my head sadly. I helped him up and said, "Hey, you look like you could use a Mighty Big Kid's Meal Double Cheeseburger smeared in ketchup, mustard and cheddar cheese."  
"I have never needed one more." Sydney slurred.  
We went to the back of the fast-food restaurant and I took the key out of my pocket. We opened the back door and turned on the lights.  
You may be wondering how I got the key. The truth is, I don't even know. I've always had it, since I was a wee pickle-eating child. It's been passed down from generation to generation. My father's father's father's father was breaking and entering, trespassing and stealing, hundreds of years ago, just like me. It just gives me a warm feeling inside.  
I opened the giant refrigerator and my eyes filled with happy tears. They had replenished the pickle supply! I took as many jars as I could hold, and sat down at one of the tables.  
Sydney came a few minutes later with a Mighty Big Kid's Meal Double Cheeseburger smeared in ketchup, mustard and cheddar cheese. He sat down, but he missed the chair.  
"How'd you make it that fast?"  
"Dug it out of the trash."  
I decided to overlook this, and said, "So guess what? I went to a singles bar and I saw this guy and I fell in love with him and I wanted to go and talk to him and I was afraid and I stood up and I passed out and nobody noticed and I lost my memory and the guy I fell in love with held scissors over my head and I regained my memory and I sat up and the guy stabbed me in the forehead and I went to the hospital and I'm gong to get a Harry Pickle scar!"  
Sydney looked blankly at me. "What?"  
"But guess what the best thing of all is? I found out his name!"  
"Great. Can you say again the part about the singles bar –"  
"Guess what it is? Go on! Guess!"  
"John Jacob Jingle Heimer Schmidt?"  
"Close."  
"Ummm Radagast?"  
"BOO RADLEY!" I shrieked.  
Sydney missed his mouth and smooshed the Mighty Big Kid's Meal Double Cheeseburger smeared in ketchup, mustard and cheddar cheese into his face. Wiping away the mustard, he said, "That psychopath? Oh, no. You don't want to hang around with him. He is bad news."  
"Can I have your pickles?" I asked him.  
Sydney sighed. 


End file.
